A LOT OF WORK... & play too (Part 158q)

A LOT OF WORK… and play too (Part 158q)

I didn’t leave as early as I’d liked and my curiosity was killing me as I drove home. I knew what I wanted to find when I got there but, having been disappointed many times, tempered my wildest thoughts and reined them in a bit. Walking in the kitchen door I found Elle waiting for me, half undressed. Her first words were “Where have you been?” I knew she’d admonished me “not to tarry”  but I was still home at least a half hour earlier than usual. Her second words were “I waited and waited but couldn’t hold it any longer. Our reservation is for six o’clock!” I looked over on the counter and there was her skirt. All I could do was to shrug my shoulders. The phone rang and I told her to just let it ring. Whenever the kids were at her parents house and the phone would ring she’d pick it up, just to make sure they were OK. The phone was located in the hallway and right next to the closet where I kept the Polaroid camera. While she was talking I got it and before she could protest I snapped a quick picture. It was nothing special and she wasn’t wet so she didn’t protest. After developing it I was glad I’d taken it.
                 

...  only one pair... :-(

One restaurant that I really liked was about 12 miles to the East. My parents ate there quite often and I’d met the owner a few times. He was a humongous man. He almost made “Big B” look somewhat normal. But, like “B” it was a glandular condition and fortunately it hadn’t been passed on to his kids. One of them was the hostess for the restaurant and she was very attractive. My parents had become friendly with the owner and, when his kids were growing up, had taken them to the city for their first visit so it was almost like family when they went there. Not having money to eat out we didn’t get to go there very often. So, when we walked in I wasn’t expecting anything special. However, Cecile, the daughter recognized me as soon as we walked in. The first thing she asked was if my parents were soon to follow. When I told her they weren’t she seemed a little disappointed but took us to their favorite place in the main dining room.

As she walked away I tried to remember how long ago it had been since the last time we’d been there. Always pretty, I figured she’d have been still in school because she certainly didn’t have the body I was eyeing. The wait staff were in short maroon colored dresses with white lace collars with small white lace aprons. Very cute! I casually watched her squat down to fetch some additional napkins from a cabinet and felt that if I’d been seated another three or four feet to my left I might’ve gotten an eye full. Just the thought of it made me continue to follow her the rest of the evening. Elle did make a comment but I somewhat diffused it when I reminded her that she was “almost family”, at least in my parents eyes.

The meal (steak) was excellent. I know we got cuts that a casual diner would never get. When we were leaving I asked Cecile if she was planning on staying ‘local’ or was she eventually headed off to the city. She smiled and said she was “small town girl” and hoped she’d live her whole life there. That led to wonder if that was her own thought or was she like Mala and some of the other Polish girls at the bank who ’s parents demanded that they stay close to their roots.

If there wasn’t so much to get accomplished before the next ‘busy period’ I would’ve taken Friday off. As it was I got saddled with a trip to the branch construction site with Jerry. We had absolutely zero in common. I tried to reinforce the necessity of having the same policies and procedures in place for both locations but got not one iota of acceptance from him. It was like talking to a wall.As I’d previously written, both Bret and I were keeping a ‘log’ of incidents where Jerry had not been following them. I just knew that when the bank examiners came into the branch that they’d have a list of violations. Since Jerry reported to me it would end up being my fault. It was while we were at the site that it came to me that we’d soon have to be hiring the staff for the new office. They would all need training and if the new building wasn’t completed it would mean we’d have to do it at the main office. Right behind that thought was the one for where interviewing would take place… and just who would do the interviewing. Although I couldn’t see me having the time to do it I hoped it wouldn’t be Jerry.

I’ll admit that from the time he started with the bank I’d made little effort to converse with Jerry. However, I knew he was still commuting from the city and asked if he’d made any progress with finding a house. That put a little ‘spark’ into him and volunteered that he’d made an offer on a house not too far from the branch. I was surprised when he suggested that I could drive by it on our way back to the bank. I figured ‘why not?’. Regardless of how I felt about him and his abilities it was obvious that I was going to have to find a way to work with him. The house was nothing much to look at and I wasn’t going to stop but Jerry asked me to pull in the driveway. He got out of the car and started walking around the house. I sat there wondering what he was doing and looked over to the house next door. From where I’d stopped I could see what appeared to be an old race car. I pulled the car a bit further up and could see it was the battered body of one. It was just another thing to get me ‘psyched’ up for opening night. I don’t know why but the number on the car triggered a memory of having seen it in the past. When Jerry got back to the car I asked if he’d met the neighbor and said he hadn’t.

Excited about discovering the old car I ended up telling Jerry about my being involved in stock car racing on our way back. In reality, it was a waste of time as he showed no interest at all. Still trying to generate conversation I ended up asking if he had any hobbies. When he answered “stamps”, I wasn’t surprised. Not willing to shut up, I asked how he’d met his wife. When he told me she was the daughter of his mother’s best friend I wanted to laugh. I sat and listened how the two mothers put them together and I tried to keep a straight face. I remember thinking that there was nothing redeeming about the guy and, again, wondering what the Trustees saw in him. By then I’d run out of things to try and engage him in conversation so we stayed silent the rest of the way back to the bank.

To be continued…